If It Means Freezing Half To Death
by JustAWaffle
Summary: "God, the least they could have done was crank up the heat. If I went into hypothermia conditions it would be hard to fight back against anything- well. I guess that's what they would want." January 1962, Alfred finds himself freezing in the midst of this Cold War. Can he brave the cold or will things start heating up?
1. Chapter 1

_Cold_. That was the first thing that came to Alfred's mind as tired eyes fluttered open, the elements pricking each exposed inch of his skin awake. He lifted his head, his focus fuzzy around the edges of his vision. Where was he? What could he remember? He bit his lip, gnawing at it as he went over each part of the memory he could.

 _Japan, January 30th, 1962. Walking through the streets of Kyoto with Kiku, talking, establishing a decent friendship. Kennedy calling, telling Alfred to get back to work. Boarding submarines, finding radio signals. There was a lock on missile, no escape, panic setting in as people started smashing at controls. There were explosions. It was cold. Wet. Dark._

"Russia." Was the first thing that slipped past chapped lips. It started to make sense, his clothes still saturated and reeking of seawater. The dull sting from metal shrapnel that cut him in the explosion, the sharp taste of the dried blood that streaked down his face. He was tied up with heavy chains, and when he tested them- no. It would take him being at full strength to break them. He cursed his luck. Did this mean war? Surely it would, considering that Russia had decided to go and take hostile measures. But why was he recovered from the wreck? Surely it would have just been better off to let him sink to the bottom and get lost in the water. It's not like drowning would kill him, anyway- it would just be a bit of a hassle.

Alfred jangled the chains that bound his torso tight. No, there was no way he would break out of this. A shaky sigh passed his lips, as shivers began to rack his shoulders. _God, the least they could have done was crank up the heat. If I went into hypothermia conditions it would be hard to fight back against anything- well. I guess that's what they would want._

The lights turned on, a dull buzz emanating from the fluorescent lights above. Alfred tried his best not to recoil from the sudden dilation in his eyes, but there was a light wince. He picked his gaze up and tried his best to scan the room, but the door was obviously not in his line of vision. So they planned on keeping him in the dark about whoever came to visit him too. _How kind of the commie bastards._

The last thing he expected was to get cold water dumped all over him, but, of course, that's what they decided to do. A shriek filled the air as white-hot pain from the cold ripped down Alfred's shoulders and made his fingers tense and begin to go numb. There was a light chuckle that filled the air moments after his scream of pain. "WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA, YOU SAW I WAS AWAKE!" Alfred cried out scornfully, his body trembling at a much faster rate now. "IT'S LIKE YOU FUCKERS WANT ME TO DIE." He pulled at the chains, letting out a frustrated cry as they did not snap at his demand. The scraping of a chair across the floor slowly brought him back to reality.

"I'm sure you wonder why all this has occurred." Ivan's voice rang clear through the little room, as he took a seat across from Alfred, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly on his lap. A childish smile graced his lips, despite the angry and harsh glare that was aimed right back at him. He pursed his lips as Alfred held his tongue. "Well aren't you a talkative one today. Maybe I should just leave you for when you are ready to-"

"Fuck you." Alfred grit his teeth, the change in Ivan's ryes a telltale sign that he was getting to him with just two words. "You really think that this little stunt is gonna go by unnoticed? People will raise eyebrows when I don't call back, when Japan says that I never came out of the ocean. You just drove yourself into a tree, buddy, and I guarantee that you'll be annihilated." Alfred spit out, before turning his gaze away. His trembling began to intensify, the cold biting at him even worse- the temperature feeling like it was dropping with the other representation just sitting across from him.

"Is the hypothermia setting in?" Ivan chuckled, the smile that had begun to fade settling back in at full force. "I'm sure you'd like some clothes to change into. Or perhaps some warm food or drink?" The Russian raised an eyebrow, and Alfred grumbled angrily, unable to really deny his longing. "I'm sure we could talk and arrange something properly." Alfred tried not to show interest, but the longer the other across from him remained silent, the more he noticed how cold, and empty he felt. Gradually, he found himself looking up at Ivan. He must have a quite a look on his face to get the other smiling so proudly.

"How long have I been here?" Alfred chewed on his lower lip. In retrospect, that question was a no-brainer, if his clothes were still damp, then it had to be less than a day or so.

"Going on two days. I'm honestly surprised you even woke up at all, with receiving no medical attention whatsoever." Ivan uncrossed his legs, just to cross them back over in the other direction.

"Well dumping a vat of ice cold water on someone would wake anyone up, jackass." Alfred spat out, and Ivan's lips curled into a frown.

"I'd watch your tongue, I can leave if I wish, you cannot." He warned Alfred, beginning to tap his foot against the cement impatiently. "Now, how about we bargain getting you warmed up and fed? I'm sure some clean bandages would feel nice as well." Ivan offered, and Alfred scowled.

"Like hell I would ever give you whatever you-"

"Then we are done here. When you start getting into the severity of hypothermia then maybe we can talk." Ivan rose from his chair before Alfred squeaked in protest. He couldn't just turn and leave like that, that is not how this sort of thing worked!

"You aren't supposed to just walk out, wait wait _wait_ -" Alfred tried scooting his chair back toward the wall behind him, to no avail. "You gotta smack me up a little and tell me I'm a disgusting little pig and THEN, MAYBE, I'll compromise with you." Alfred bit his lip. He really didn't even want that to happen to him, but that's what should happen, he could feel it.

Ivan met Alfred as the blonde was thinking it over, wrapping soft fabric around his eyes. A hankerchief? A scarf? God if he knew, but all he could tell that it bothered him. What came next was earplugs. Was Ivan really trying to dilute his senses that much? It did make the cold against his skin feel much more painful. "Maybe this will make you a little less demanding. I'll check on you at some point." Ivan leaned down to mutter into Alfred's ear, before sliding the other earbud back into place, and promptly left the room, starting back up the stairs.

"Oh _HELL_ no. You can't just leave me here like this, it's cold as fuck! _Russia_!" Alfred tried scooting his chair backward again, the gradual momentum eventually causing him to tip over and fall back, head cracking soundly against the cement floor.

* * *

Ivan held a bowl of warm soup in a hand, as he nudged the cellar door open and made his decent down old wooden steps. The smell of blood permeated through the air. Alfred's blood, he reminded himself in reassurance. He scowled. What had that moron managed to do to himself in the few hours he left him alone? As he rounded the corner, the sight was laid out to him on the floor. Alfred had managed to tip his chair over, and considering it was only a mental folding chair he was chained up in, he got no cushion whatsoever, his head likely against hitting the rugged cement at full force. Ivan set the bowl of soup aside, begrudgingly. It looks like his taunting would have to wait for another time.

Grabbing Alfred the hair, Ivan lifted Alfred up, surveying the damage to his skull. There was a gash across his right temple and the puddle that sat on the floor next to where Alfred had laid himself told Ivan that he was like this for a few hours. _Damn. Is injuring yourself like this part of your plan? It would certainly make me need to take you to a doctor._ Thankfully Alfred's nation healing had clearly gone to work at the wound, it was seemingly much greater than it had been, but it was very clearly diluted, likely to being in such a weakened state prior to the injury sustained.

Despite his judgment earlier, Ivan removed the handkerchief and the earplugs, which were each coated thoroughly in blood, tossing them aside with a thick splat- just barely avoiding the dark red puddle that sat on the ground. With a small silver key he drew from his pocket, he freed Alfred and scooped him up in an arm easily.

He'd need to be checked out. If Alfred died or went braindead, then everything would turn to shit. War and death was not the highest priority on his list at the moment. Thankfully, he knew just the person that would be able to help with his little- _problem_. He brought Alfred up the stairs and to the nearest phone. Peeling Alfred's jacket off, Ivan pressed it into his temple, to hopefully keep the blood from getting over anything. The last thing he needed was bloodstains on his antique oriental carpet. He paid a lot of money for that. That rug had cost a pretty penny back in the day.

Bloodstains aside, Ivan dialed the number, pressing the phone to his ear. He stared down at Alfred as the line rang. The American was much paler than normal- almost like a porcelain doll, stained with streaks of red from blood and blue from bruises. Ivan almost found himself laughing. The three colors of the Russian flag, red, white, and blue all stained on his face. It dullened his mood a bit when he was reminded that Alfred was literally half dead. The receiver picked up, and Ivan was brought back from his minor concerns. "Fedkin here. What is it you need."

"Doctor Fedkin?" Ivan pressed the phone into the joint of his shoulder, frowning at Alfred as he tried to keep the other from bleeding all over the floor. "I need to come over, so you can work on someone. Lots of O+ blood." There was a sigh on the other. He knew Fedkin would be irritated, but who else would treat a nation?

"I need you to stop beating American spies half to death. I'm losing my blood reserve, here." The receiver hung up before Ivan could even put another word in about who the patient was. Ivan set his phone down as well, returning to Alfred to drag him off the carpet, finally. It was time to drive him to a doctor.

* * *

The ride had taken longer than Ivan had really wanted it to take. Apparently, traffic was a bitch to deal with at 7:00 at night. Thankfully, it was not like Alfred had much blood left to lose, though, and for that much he was grateful- it meant no stains on his car's seats. He pulled the other down from his place in the passenger's side and carried him up the steps into Fedkin's office.

"I'm here to see Dr. Fedkin." The secretary gave Ivan a look as he entered, but nodded to the door in earnest. It was not the first time Ivan had entered carrying someone dead in the water. As he walked through the door, he called out. "Fedkin?" The man stuck his head out from around a corner. He looked the same as ever, thin white hair slicked back, showing off that receding hairline and wrinkly forehead. Two black eyes sat perched behind dark metal frames that seemed too big for his little button nose. All over, the man gave him some serious saytr vibes, with how short, chubby, and angry he was.

"First of all, you are thirty minutes late. I was off the clock almost an hour ago, but I'm still here." Fedkin began scanning over Alfred, not even surprised in the slightest to the amount of damage he outwardly looked like he had. "What, did he survive an explosion?" Ivan nodded slowly, and the old man shook his head, snickering. "Bring him to the radiology room." Fedkin turned, trotting into a room that forked off from the hallway. Ivan followed in suit, looking around at the old, clunky x-ray machine.

"Well, you know what to do, before the poor kid dies, Ivan." Ivan huffed, nodding as he sat Alfred in a wooden chair in front of the radiography machine. Alfred's head lolled to the side, his body slumping into the chair for support. He tried his best not to protest to how inaccurately Fedkin was examining Alfred. Shouldn't he be worried about his open wounds?

"Shouldn't you be-" Ivan started, but the elder waved him off.

"I can see yet, Ivan. This kid is clearly a nation- he's lost too much blood to even be alive, and yet you say he is. Now go and make yourself useful, by sterilizing my operating room. I'll surely need it later." Fedkin said dismissively, as he began working on taking Alfred's x-ray.

* * *

"Acute subdural hematoma. Depressed skull fracture. Fractured tibia. Ruptured spleen. Moderate Hypothermia. Internal bleeding in several places.. Hell- he probably only has a couple of ounces of blood left in his body, and not in the places they should be, that's for damn sure!" Fedkin growled at Ivan as he wheeled Alfred into the operating room. "Christ, whatever you did to this kid- we are going to be in deep shit with his government, cause if he was a human he would just be a stain on the ground at this point." Fedkin sighed, pointing to Ivan, Alfred, and then the operating table. Ivan got the message, moving Alfred so he lay on the table.

Fedkin picked up an old book labeled 'COUNTRIES', a frown on his face as he flipped through pages. "Sub-state nation hibernation." Fedkin scanned through the old book just to be sure. Much to Ivan's dismay, he remembered that book well, it held a variety of nation only illnesses and conditions. Ivan tried his best to repress the memories of being a test subject for that book for centuries. "When a nation has entered a hibernation-like state due to conditions of human death, or deep mental trauma."

Snapping the book closed, he smiled. "Conditions of human death sounds about right, here." He looked over Alfred, shaking his head. "It's curable by either reverting the conditions of death to a stable state, or in the case of mental trauma, waiting it out. Either way, it leaves the nation's body completely and totally vulnerable." The glint in Ivan's eyes at the word vulnerable was none too subtle.

"I guess I'll get to work sewing this kid back together. Go call in nurse Katrina, and put this back on the shelf." Fedkin set the book against Ivan's chest and cracked his knuckles. As Ivan left on command, there was this sneaking suspicion- he'd end up regretting all of what he was doing for Alfred.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred looked so peaceful, sitting there in that hospital bed. His blond hair was combed and slicked back, yet that cowlick still held fast and stuck up in defiance. Fedkin had patched him up nicely, bandages were wrapped around the American from head to toe. The doctor had insisted Ivan go home and try to sort things out with Alfred's government, but Ivan remained, knowing that if he left Alfred, that would be the time when the blonde would wake up.

It's been two weeks since he recovered Alfred from that explosion, and Ivan was still contemplating as to whether or not he regretted it. Surely he should, given the circumstance, but he'd never really enjoyed spending time around other countries before- none were ever this silent, this content.

Well- in retrospect, Alfred was half-dead in a coma.

Regardless, Ivan used this as an opportunity, to sit there and lie back and be with someone who was not just afraid. Alfred wasn't afraid, awake or asleep. Ivan had always sensed the bravery wafting off him in thick waves that mixed with his ego. It made the air stagnant and thick around Alfred, and even though most seemed to despise it, he found it astonishing, as it was so different from the fear others seemed to always give off.

"Hun...gry.." Alfred groaned out in his sleep, his body convulsing for a moment, fingers digging into the blankets, clawing desperately in search of something to satiate himself. Ivan shook his head and smiled before reaching over, pressing a hand to Alfred's forehead, urging him to calm down. Yet, the cold hand seemed to just irritate the blonde further, and when his coral blue eyes snapped open- Ivan jumped back in surprise.

Alfred wasted no time during his wakeful moment, ripping the IV drip carelessly from his arm, sitting up and attempting to stand. However- his leg was still broken, and when he put full pressure on it- he yelled in pain. Ivan stood, grabbing Alfred's shoulders and forcing him back into the little hospital bed, despite the other's little groans of protest.

Fedkin and Katrina rushed in, Katrina helping Ivan situate Alfred back into the bed despite the other's hazy rampage. "He needs food, I think," Ivan said to the nurse, and she nodded, turning on her heel to run off and get something. Ivan was never one to just give someone like Alfred what they wanted, but it was for the safety of the others in the building.

"You really did have to hurt a wild one, huh, Ivan?" Fedkin laughed, helping Ivan hold Alfred down as he struggled manically.

Alfred looked completely clueless as to the situation, which was not much of a surprise- Alfred had never bothered to learn Russian, which is what the two were conversing in. He grabbed at Ivan's arm first, trying to see if it would give as he dug his nails into his Ivan's forearm. "Food-!" He cried out, biting his lip angrily, as there was no avail to his desperate attempts.

Katrina returned in seconds flat, a sandwich slapped together hastily in her hands. She set the food in front of Alfred, and it took him no time whatsoever to practically shove the entire thing down his throat. He settled then, swallowing thickly to try and get the food down and fill his stomach in the slightest. Although everyone else had begun to calm down, Ivan held fast in his adrenaline boosted mood, keeping the American pinned tightly to the bed. His analogy was that no one knew what he might try if he was freed, so it was best to keep him still.

"Ivan I think-" Fedkin started, but Ivan quickly interjected his statement.

"No, you cannot trust him, even in this weakened state." In a moment, Ivan decided. "I'm taking him back to the basement."

* * *

Alfred was delirious, the entire ride back. By the time Ivan was pulling Alfred into the house, Alfred had tried jumping out of the moving car a grand total of 6 times, babbled nonsensically about someone named Gerald, and nearly stabbed Ivan with a fountain pen that was sitting on the dashboard. _Maybe this wasn't the greatest idea._

Thankfully though, Alfred was securely bound to the chair once more. He was still chattering away, unfortunately, but Ivan could deal with that. He was currently in the process of mopping the dried blood off of his floor, so he had bigger problems to deal with anyway.

"Yo, yo, yoyo, yo." Alfred eventually began calling for Ivan, starting to rock to and fro in his chair again- which quickly set Ivan into alert mode. He set the mop aside and walked over to hold the chair still. "Gimmie some more food before I break the fuck outta here like some real James Bond 007 shit." Alfred looked up to Ivan, an all-knowing glint in his eye.

"James... Bond..? 007?" Ivan raised an eyebrow. He'd never heard of the man.

"The books, you haven't read them!?" Alfred rocked in his chair. "The super cool awesome American spy that gets all the hot broads and drives sick cars and kicks crappy Russian ass!" Ivan blinked. Someone was portraying him as a villain again, what a surprise... He sighed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"If you stop shaking your chair around, I'll get you something." Ivan bargained.

"Ooh, deal! Get me some McDonald's, like- a cheeseburger, fries, and a Coca-Cola- it'll be less than two quarters, just get my wallet-" Alfred stopped abruptly, frowning, despite the eager glint remaining. "Oh. Shit. I lost my wallet in the explosion." He sighed, relenting. "Whatever, I'll pay you back-" Ivan looked completely clueless. _What the hell was a McDonald's..?_

"I'll- get you a couple of sandwiches. Just- stay." Ivan stepped back and started up the stairs, clearly uncomfortable with how quickly Alfred got docile.

 _Does he have a concussion or something..?_

* * *

In short, Ivan was pretty surprised when he walked down the stairs holding a plate and caught first sight of Alfred. In _long_ , though, Ivan had pulled a pistol from the inside of his jacket and fired a warning shot at Alfred's feet, causing the American to laugh.

"Surprise! I told you I could do some 007 stuff!" Alfred looked genuinely proud, as he raised his hands in surrender. How he'd done it? During all that wiggling, Ivan had pressed his front torso into the chair's back, along with Alfred's hands, which easily enabled Alfred to dip his hands into pockets and search for the shiny little metal key that unlocked the chains. He was successful, and when Ivan went upstairs, he got to work rummaging in the cabinets downstairs- he was not that stupid to try and run, in his weakened state, after all. Although, Alfred did find himself a little nervous when Ivan pressed the gun to the back of his head, but hey, it was not that big of a deal, he could handle it!

"Give me the key, sit back in the chair, and chain your legs," Ivan demanded, and Alfred complied, albeit with a prominent frown on his face. _No credit for being cool at all? Man, what a tough crowd._

"It's not like I was gonna try and hightail it out of here, I'm not crazy!" Alfred pouted, as Ivan worked on chaining Alfred back to the chair. "Jeez, I just wanted to show you something cool." He began rocking to and fro and his chair and the reprimanding Ivan dealt on him this time was a solid slap to the face, instead of just simply stopping him. Alfred huffed, rolling his shoulders and cracking his jaw. He looked over to the stairs where a plate piled high with sandwiches sat- his stomach rumbled in acknowledgment, his mind transitioning over to a new idea. How could he get mad when the guy could give him food instead?

"Never do that again, I could have killed you." Ivan pocketed the key and concealed the weapon once more.

"But 'cha didn't!" Alfred grinned, eyes still fixed on the plate. "That's for me, right?" He looked very hopeful, like an excited puppy with his bright eyes and bouncy voice, as Ivan walked towards the stairs.

"It _was,_ but I think I've changed my mind." Ivan picked up one of the sandwiches, biting into it with a deadpan expression. Alfred could feel his heart shattering, dismay washing over his features. But those were _his_ -! "You have a nice evening, Alfred. Sleep tight." Without another word, the Russian walked up the stairs.

Once again, Alfred was alone and cold in this dark room, but instead of seawater, the room was thick with the stench of blood.


	3. Chapter 3

"You should let me out of here."

"That's out."

"But why the hell not!?" Alfred frowned, worming around in his chair. It had been a day, and he was already getting bored. He hadn't expected Ivan to be so... docile. He was never smacked around as he would have thought, and Ivan generally acted in a polite manner. All around, it was not too bad, except for the fact that it was painful to sleep sitting up. And that's why he decided to ask, bringing him here at this moment.

"I'm not letting you roam free and ruin my plans." Ivan rolled his eyes, glaring down at Alfred as he re-did the bandages around the American's forehead.

"If you told me what those plans _were,_ then maybe I would not be in the way to ruin them," Alfred suggested, wiggling his eyebrows up at the Russian tending to his wounds.

" _Amerika,_ I am not going to give up classified information. Just shut your mouth and let me finish this. I have work to do." Ivan's eyebrows knit together, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Alfred let out a labored sigh, wiggling in his chair in another failed attempt to grow comfortable.

* * *

"Today, you should totally let me see your place."

"No, Amerika."

"Come on! I'm sick of being escorted back and forth to the bathroom and not getting to see anything cool. You won't even tell me what those huge paintings are in your hallways!" Alfred kicked at the chains around his ankles, fuming up at the other.

"I have guests coming over today, I don't need you getting in the way," Ivan stated simply, before stuffing another bite of food into Alfred's mouth. "You'll be a nuisance."

"Then I have to go to the bathroom." Alfred glared, as he swallowed thickly. Ivan let out a frustrated sigh.

"No, you don't."

* * *

The chains gave a little clank as they met the floor, Alfred almost immediately jumping up to stretch. He rubbed at his wrists, letting out a little happy sigh. Ivan stood in front of the stairwell, arms folded across his chest as he watched the American jog around the chair happily. "Freedom has never been so sweet!" He laughed, stopping to stretch, letting out a cheerful hum. "So why are you letting me out anyway?"

"Doctor's orders. Fedkin wants you to get some sunlight." Alfred cheered in response, and Ivan couldn't help but hate the American even more. "I should put a leash on you." He mumbled in Russian to himself.

"C'mon! Let's go, I want out of this dump already!" Alfred walked over to Ivan, looking past him to the door up the stairs. "I'll finally get to see your house and everything!" His eyes were bright, and he tried pushing past the Russian- the man acting quite literally like a wall. Alfred faltered, his lips turning into a frown.

Why did Ivan falter? It was not fair, he should get to go outside, at least for a bit! He was behaving, complying with whatever the hell Ivan had planned. But yet, he stood fast, keeping Alfred from interacting with something besides the cold metal chains that had kept him bound for so irritatingly long. Ivan looked away, his resolve clearly crumbling under the American's puppy-dog gaze.

"Do not touch anything," Ivan stated simply, before taking a step aside. As soon as the opening was given, Alfred ran up the stairs and out the door.

"It's so old-fashioned!" Alfred was ripping through cabinets in the living room, his eyes bright as he looked at papers that he hadn't a clue of what they were about. "God, man, you need to ask your bosses for some newer stuff! You don't even have a TV..." Alfred looked around the little room, a frown prominent on his face. "Just books, so many!" He moved to a shelf, thumbing the neatly organized spines with fervor. Most of the books were in Russian, just like the papers, but he spotted one in English. "The Great Gatsby?" Alfred glanced back, an eyebrow raised.

Ivan fumbled, his cheeks flushing red, surely embarrassed that a very 'American' title was found on his shelves. "August 1942, in England's home, you left it behind."

* * *

 _"Stop reading that book! Christ sake, we are trying to organize a battle plan, here!" Alfred was cracked upside the head with a hand before Arthur settled back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. Francis and Ivan couldn't help but chuckle, as the American whined and bookmarked his page._

 _"This book is way more interesting!" Alfred glared back at his elder brother, tossing it onto the table before folding his arms over his chest. "It makes me think of the good times, where none of you assholes were bothering me!" The American began tapping his foot incessantly against the floor._

 _"Shouldn't we be thinking about what we are supposed to be doing-?" Francis started to interject- but was quickly interrupted by Arthur._

 _"That's beside the point! You cannot dwell on the past when you should be focusing on the present, hell, the future! I don't want to be occupied by that Kraut!" Arthur slammed a fist on the table as if that would help him prove his point._

 _"Well, I'm not weak like you!" Alfred stuck out his tongue at Arthur, and the brit snapped easily, tackling Alfred from his chair into the floor._

 _The two fought, wrestling across the floor, Alfred easily gaining the upper hand, straddling Arthur and sitting up straight, folding his arms over his chest. The Brit had an unmistakable blush burning across his cheeks as he tried to worm out from under Alfred._

 _"Now we are gonna do things my way, so watch this!"_

* * *

Alfred had gotten so distracted by making battle plans that he'd forgotten completely about that book, and left it behind, the worn cover sitting on the empty table sadly, as it was deserted by its owner. Ivan was never one to desert a book- so he took it. He read it on the flight back to Moscow, and yet- he could not see what the fuss was about. Why did Alfred say the book was so good? It was just sad if anything. A hopeless life, with the reminder that death destroys all lingering in the background.

And now here Alfred was, flipping through the book with a cheerful smile on his face, like everything inside the book was sunshine and rainbows. Ivan couldn't help but squint, skeptical of what he was so eager about.

"Amerika, put the book back unless you plan on taking it with you." And almost on command, the book was sheathed under Alfred's arm, the blonde looking to Ivan expectantly. What was with that look?

"If you want to see my house that badly, then come along." Ivan waited for Alfred to begin walking ahead of him, before following along. Alfred ran his hands along the faded wallpaper of the halls, peeking into rooms questioningly, closing the doors when he did not find interest in anything. Until, suddenly, he bolted into a room. Ivan almost had half a mind to grab him, moving so erratically.

"A BED!" Alfred cheered, belly flopping onto the soft down of the blankets, laughing and rolling around happily. Ivan guessed his excitement was only fair, with how he had to sleep in a hard wooden chair for the past few nights. "Ahh, the blankets are so soft!"

Maybe he should let Alfred be more comfortable...

"If you are cooperative enough, then I may let you use the guest room. You'll still be tied up at night, though." Ivan avoided looking back into the deep, eager blues of Alfred's eyes. "That is, only if." He reminded the American.

"I'm going to beat the crap out of you once I regain my strength, but some comfort until then would be nice!" Alfred laughed, burying his face in a pillow, writhing with joy on the bed. Ivan grit his teeth, avoiding even looking at Alfred.

"If you want to go outside, then let's hurry up. I have things to do." Ivan lied through his teeth, for the sake of ditching Alfred back in the basement and being in his peaceful silence. Alfred sat up, looking down at his clothes, which were almost a hospital gown sort of thing, that fit baggily over his frame.

"Won't it be cold? Your place in like what, February, has to be freezing as all hell." Alfred still stood, stretching, his joints popping as they still were adjusting to being in a different position. "A jacket would be nice, at the least." Ivan sighed.

"I'm not as stupid as to have you freezing in below negative temperatures." Ivan had recalled dumping ice water over Alfred at that moment- taking him outside and leaving him to freeze in his basement- but that was before he had Fedkin on his ass, telling him that he needed to treat Alfred _decently_ until he was at least almost fully recovered. He grabbed Alfred by the wrist, starting to pull him down the hall, instead of letting Alfred lead and wander about. "What is your size?" Ivan glanced back at the American.

"Hell if I know." Alfred snorted, flashing a grin up at the other nation dragging him down the hall. Ivan let out an audible groan of detest. He'd take a guess, and say that he was about Estonia's size.

The pair stopped in front of a closet, Ivan releasing Alfred's wrist to open the door and pull out a coat, setting it in Alfred's waiting arms. "I doubt it will fit, considering you don't know your size."

"The better question is why the hell do you have a closet that is full of different sized coats?!" Alfred laughed, clearly amused as he pushed his way into the closet. "There's all kinds!"

"My life is none of your business, now put it on, and let's go."

* * *

Alfred had to settle with his still soggy boots, as Ivan and he did not share the same size shoe. It didn't bother him though, as he walked out, and took in a deep breath, enjoying the cool, clean air filling his lungs. Much better than a blood-saturated basement, at the least. It was snowing, lightly, and Alfred outstretched his arms, looking up to the sky with a little smile as little cold flakes bit at his skin harshly, like little tiny bees were stinging his face.

It was -28° out, according to Ivan. Of course, Alfred prayed that it was in Celcius, not Fahrenheit. The aspect of it being almost -30° scared him in every way possible. He almost never left the southern half of his country, so when someone told him it was that cold in other places, he almost could not believe it. It was still cold, the frostbite signs already coming to his fingertips.

"It is time to go back inside." Ivan could quickly tell that the cold was getting to him. As much as he would like to see the American sit there and tremble, Fedkin's voice bit at the back of his head. _Keep him in a stable condition until he is near fully healed, at least._

So they went back inside, Alfred quickly kicking off his boots and stripping his coat. "That was nice, even though it was only for a few minutes!" He smiled big, rubbing his forearms in an attempt to warm himself back up. "What I wouldn't give for some hot chocolate and marshmallows now..."

"You're going back in the basement once you are warm."

"What!?"


	4. Chapter 4

"I guess it's finally time to fill you in on why you're here." Ivan crossed his leg over the other, watching Alfred warily. Alfred was nibbling away at his breakfast, likely not even paying attention in the slightest. "First, I would like to get something clear with you." Alfred glanced up, just barely acknowledging his focus on what Ivan was saying.

"If you want to get any progress done today, then I highly suggest you sign this form." Ivan slid the form across the table to the American on the other side. It was a promissory note- one that dictated that Alfred would swear to keep the whole event that had happened with the submarine exploding a secret- given he signed it, of course. Alfred scanned over the paper, then looked up to glare at Ivan. It wasn't much of a surprise he detested the contents of it. Ivan decided to elaborate. "The information I will disclose to you will, of course, help you with things in your country. It contains things along the lines of where we wish to occupy, and what our strategies are if things turn for the worst. I'll give it all to you, plus the reason why I summoned you."

Alfred grit his teeth, slapping his hand over the pen that Ivan had nudged towards him, scribbling out a crude signature on the blanks dictated. "This better be worth my time, or I'm gonna have em' bomb the hell out of you." He sat back as Ivan pulled the paper over and tucked it away into a folder. Ivan naturally knew Alfred would still spill what had happened to _someone_ , but the note gave him a bit of reassurance about Alfred's choices. Ivan delved back into the folder, reading off what he had prepared days prior.

"You are a threat to the safety of both me and my people," Ivan started, ignoring the snicker from Alfred. "So as protective measures, we decided to detain you and see if we could beat something out of you- which ultimately failed- so now we are in this strange space of uncertainty. I am being held under lock and key by Dr. Fedkin, despite you being almost fully healed, and becoming very much a threat." Alfred snickered again, and Ivan sighed out of irritation. Alfred took this pause to speak.

"What the hell are you trying to get out of me?" Alfred cocked his head, a grin split across his lips that clearly showed he believed to have the upper hand.

"The date you decide to bomb The Soviet Union apart," Ivan said, and the air very noticeably grew tense. Alfred squinted, staring at Ivan with skepticism. "You already did it once with Japan, I am just waiting for a where and when on my behalf." Even though what he was saying eluded to an intense fear, Ivan still sat tall, appearing strong and confident, ready to take a hit from anything and deal it back with full force.

The silence quickly began to irritate Ivan. It was a simple question, so why would Alfred not answer!?

"I'm- not planning on it," Alfred said, awkwardly, avoiding the other's gaze. "I mean- yeah, sometimes I just want to nail you in the face with a punch hard enough to make you braindead- but- I don't want to do someone dirty like that again." When Ivan gave him a weird look, he began to get defensive. "You didn't see how scared Kiku looked when I showed up at his place a couple of years after the war! After- what I did to him.." Alfred looked down. "It's not heroic to just solve your problems by killing a crap ton of innocent people... I see that now."

"So what is the point of- this?" Ivan gestured between the two of them.

"You're an asshole, that's the point of it!" Alfred's eyes darted back up, hands clenching into fists. "And I wanna prove I'm better than you! You've been the superpower of the world for so long, but now it is my turn!" In short- Ivan was dumbfounded by the answer. But- what was to be expected by a nation like him.

"You are not even 200 years old yet-"

"So what!? You were terrorizing people around my age, weren't you?"

"I think when I was your age, I still had the physical body of a child." Silence permeated through the two of them, as they watched each other with unbounded nervousness. "Anyway, I- I'm sure there is more information I could get out of you. Technology, and such." Ivan folded his arms over his chest. "Battle plans and weapons." He added quickly, at the end.

"I'm not letting you take over all of Europe, we _just_ stopped that! Y'know, George Santayana? _'_ _Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it'_? Even though Hitler and Stalin are dead and gone, I bet you are still making plans to wipe everyone out, you creep!" Alfred folded his arms over his chest, mirroring Ivan's image. Ivan grit his teeth, looking away from Alfred. He was so close to just punching Alfred across the mouth, he swore that if Alfred did not stop... "But a _nyway_ ," Ivan sighed, thankful that Alfred was moving on from acting so snarky. "I'm not going to bomb you unless you bomb me, so just don't get cocky or anything!" Ivan snickered. He was seriously so hypocritical. But Ivan decided it was better to not point it out.

"Whatever you insist. Just finish your breakfast." Ivan stood, going to retrieve some food of his own. Alfred hummed as Ivan turned away, eagerly digging into the rest of his own meal. In its essence, Ivan was still wary of the American that chewed happily on his self-made eggs and bacon.

* * *

"Y'Know, you never told me your super secret private info." Alfred called out to Ivan, his face spread into a cheeky smile. He sat upside down on the couch, his head dangling mere centimeters from the floor, legs swaying back and forth on top of the back of the seating. "Like all your battle strategies and stuff?" Alfred tossed the book he was reading aside, getting up to face Ivan who sat across the room in a large, comfy-looking chair that was gilded with little shiny bits of metal and soft, green fabric. Ivan did not do much more than glance up at Alfred, which dug the thorn in Alfred's side deeper. God, he wished he could just punch Ivan upside the face-!

"I'll make a game out of it." Ivan smiled, not even needing to look up from his book to know that Alfred was surprised. "It will go like this; you have an hour to scrounge around the house and amount to something of value. After an hour is up, I will come and track you down. _IF_ you manage to elude me catching you initially, then you will have more time to search and memorize documents, given I do not catch you. Once you are caught, however, I will make you return everything back into its place, and you will not be allowed to search again- ever." Ivan set his book down, happy violet eyes meeting Alfred's concerned blues. "And if I happen to ever catch you searching outside of this hour, I will beat you into a bloody pulp."

"Oh yeah, naturally. Totally fair." Alfred swallowed thickly. "So when does this hour start-?"

"Three minutes ago." Alfred paled at Ivan's words, scrambling up to begin his search, Ivan chuckling merrily as he watched the American limp away on his walking cast.

* * *

"Alfred, time is up!" Alfred bristled, looking around to try and pinpoint exactly where the call came from. He looked down to the papers in his arms, and then to the office around him. He hadn't even had time to study all this information, what was he to do!? Swallowing, he peeked out of the room. Surely Ivan was going to come here first, this is where anyone would look. So, with the utmost stealth he could manage, he took a turn and booked it down the hall. Everything looked the same, and Ivan could jump out at any moment. It was more than a little anxiety producing, as Alfred decided to get out of the open and duck into a room. It seemed like some sort of room that was meant to be a music room, a grand piano sitting carefully in the center, with other various types of instruments littered in corners.

He spotted an area of genuine interest- a closet. Blessing the gods themselves, he pulled the door open and ducked inside. It was full of boxes, almost to the ceiling, each one labeled along the lines of ' **SHEET MUSIC** ' or ' **EXTRA HORSEHAIR FOR BOWS** ' or something else that seemed to be completely obscure. He glanced at the door, and the papers in his arms. If Ivan opened the door and caught him standing here, he wouldn't have any time at all to study. So, like any rational human being, he pulled off his jacket, wrapping the papers up with care, before biting into one of the sleeves, holding onto it tightly as he attempted to scale the box mountain. Astoundingly, he did not even notice the ladder aside the boxes, as he took a seat, nestling himself behind some cardboard.

He worked on unwrapping the papers and getting to studying, trying to ignore the sway and occasional jolt of the boxes and the slamming of doors far off in the distance, as he read a form about submarine construction and supply. Ivan was somewhere close, he could hear the constant mumble of taunts, doors opening and closing, and things being moved around, but he tried his best to block it all out. He needed to focus on keeping his balance centered, and reading things that he would later discover had no real value.

"I know you are somewhere close, I can sense your fear~." Ivan lulled as he knocked on a wall, sending Alfred into a rigid jolt, before panicking as he thought his cardboard tower was nearly about to collapse. Alfred closed his eyes, sighing and reassuring himself that Ivan could not actually sense fear. He was close, though, likely just one room over from the music room he sat in. With that, he began to read documents faster, finally finding something of use.

"Cuba..." Alfred whispered to himself, squinting down at the paper. What were they planning to do with Cuba? All that was on the page was a map with Cuba circled in red, lines being drawn down to the country from the east coast of Russia. He memorized the contents of the page to the best of his ability, before setting aside and picking up the next- as the door to the music room opened. Ivan was probably walking in, but his footsteps were so quiet that he could not dictate where exactly Ivan was- until a key on the piano was hit- a low C resounding through the room. Alfred swallowed, trying to ignore the dull drone of the piano and read sheets on nuclear plants.

"Alfred, you left the door cracked open. Now, if I was hunting someone intelligent, I would assume they opened the door in an attempt to lure me off course. But you, are not as smart as that, in my opinion." Ivan chuckled, and Alfred mouthed out a curse. Was he really that careless!? The key faded off, and Alfred closed his eyes tightly. _Russia won't find you, big guy, no worries!_ He tried to tell himself, but the closet door opened then, and hands sprung up to cover his mouth, blocking out the little cry of surprise.

Ivan was directly below him. He didn't dare look down.

"Hm, I wonder where Alfred could be, if not here." Ivan pressed his hands into the columns of boxes, giving it a light shove. Alfred nearly cried out from how violently the top shook. "I wonder if he thought it would be a good idea to hide up in the rafters of my music supply closet." He chuckled. "Good thing what resides in these boxes are durable." With a more defiant shove, boxes- and Alfred- came tumbling down to meet the floor. Alfred could barely even cry out as he hit the floor, smart enough to have this time kept his head secure. Pains ripped up his leg though, and the cry that ripped through his throat could rival that of a Wilhelm Scream. Ivan only laughed.

"That fucking _hurt_ , you _sadistic, communist- FUCK!_ " Ivan set his leg on Alfred's shin, applying pressure to the break with a cheerful smile, despite Alfred's moaning and hissing that could compare to a cat about to leap into a fight. "Get _OFF!_ " Alfred sat up, shoving Ivan's leg away with all of the effort he could amount. Ivan obliged then, stepping off and away- satisfied with what he'd done to Alfred.

"Now that I've found you, how about we get to work putting these documents back?" Ivan smiled, taking the pile out of Alfred's lap, a frustrated groan coming off of the other.

Alfred licked his lips, trying his best not to curse at the fact he hadn't been able to study it all, as he trailed after Ivan so he could put everything in its original place.


End file.
